


a new kind of fall

by carefulren



Category: The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Brother Feels, Brotherly Love, Family Feels, Gen, Ghosts, Hurt/Comfort, Sick Character, Sick!Klaus, Sickfic, Whump, brief mentions of drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-23 20:04:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19158022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carefulren/pseuds/carefulren
Summary: Klaus is sick, his siblings are skeptical, and Ben gets pissed.





	a new kind of fall

This feeling isn’t new to Klaus; in fact, it’s painfully familiar. His body is a heavy, throbbing, lump of ice yet his head is a ball of fire crackling and floating above his pillow. Every inch of his skin hurts, and his muscles are pulsing in time with a too rapid heartbeat. He’s shaking, teeth clenched together to keep from chattering freely, but the blanket he’s got gripped up to his chin is doing nothing to ward of the chill that’s clinging mercilessly to his bones.

Yes, for Klaus, this feeling is painfully familiar. It’s a feeling that follows its stark contrast of airy nothingness, light bliss. This, now, this is withdrawal.

_“It’s not withdrawal, Klaus.”_

“Did I say that out loud?” Klaus asks, voice rubbed raw from a fitful night filled with hollow coughs.

_“You’ve been mumbling for a while now.”_

Ben’s voice, Klaus thinks with a frown, is laced with a familiar coat of concern—one that’s reserved just for him and his various fuck ups throughout his shitshow of a life. He groans, and the deep growl agitates his throat. He pushes himself up on one elbow and coughs harshly into his fist, his lungs rattling with each grating cough.

He catches his breath after a few, painful moments that feel like an eternity, and he pries his eyes open. Ben’s at his side, looking down at him with narrow, studying eyes and a furrowed forehead. His arms are crossed, but his fingers are twitching slightly, as if fighting off a need to reach out to Klaus.

Behind Ben, there’s a crowd of the dead—a woman with a noose hanging around her neck, a man in a hospital gown with an IV sticking out of his arm, a crew of three young gentleman with familiar helmets, faces covered in dirt and blood, dog tags…

Klaus shakes his head with a few, weak coughs and brings his focus back to Ben. “You shouldn’t eavesdrop on my dream-filled mutterings, dear brother,” Klaus says, a half-smile pulling across tired lips as he falls back against his pillow. “Can’t a man get some privacy?”

Rolling his eyes, Ben takes a seat on the edge of Klaus’s bed, and Klaus shivers a little harder at the chill that follows the deceased.

_“You’re sick, Klaus. You should go get someone.”_

“Or,” Klaus draws out, voice cracking, “I could stay here with my favorite, dead brother.”

_“I’m not going to be the only dead sibling if you stay up here by yourself.”_

There’s a flick of a thought that crosses Klaus’s mind—a thought that was a constant in his drug-riddled mind. Death. It’s something he desired, an out from his “ability,” as his father would call it.

_“Klaus, get the hell up. Everyone’s downstairs.”_

Ben’s voice cuts through his dark thoughts, and Klaus blinks up sheepishly as his brother. “Fine, fine, Benny Boy. I’m going.”

Getting out of bed is a new level of difficult. This, he thinks, definitely feels like withdrawal, but he’s clean—he’s been clean for two months, yet in those fifty-six days, the thought of a relapse, of consuming even the smallest of pills that will take the dead away, has been prominent around the headache in his mind. But he’s held off, not wishing to remain a disappointment.

Standing feels like he’s balancing on a surfboard that’s fighting against crashing waves. Everything’s spinning, and in seconds, he’s dripping in sweat despite his clacking teeth. “Shit,” he groans, bringing one hand to his head. “This, dear brother, fucking sucks.” A cough follows his words, and he stumbles toward the door. The floor’s rocking underneath his socks, and he has to stop and lean heavily against the doorframe to keep himself from toppling over.

_“Klaus…”_

Ben’s hands are hovering just inches from Klaus’s arms, and Klaus studies the pale hands for a moment before bringing his eyes to Ben’s.

“I’m good—just need a minute. Everything’s,” he stops, twirling his finger weakly in a circular motion, “all spinny.”

Ben remains at his side when he stumbles into Luther’s room to snag and oversized gray cardigan that swallows his slender frame, and his dead brother stays dangerously close when he climbs down the never-ending stairs with a grip on the bannister that’s tight enough to have his knuckles fading to a frightening white. He has to stop twice to sit and cough harshly until dark spots dance across his vision, but he makes it down without killing himself.

He can hear his siblings in a heated discussion in the living room, and when he enters, he goes unnoticed, even as he stumbles across the room to an unoccupied loveseat. He’s out of breath when he flops onto the cushion, and he pulls the cardigan over his mouth to mask the sharp, burning coughs that tremble out from his lungs.

“Is that my sweater?” Luther asks.

_“Fuck off, Luther.”_

Klaus raises one brow toward Ben, who’s leaning against the arm rest beside him, before he shrugs. “It’s warm.”

“It’s mine, and you just coughed all over it.” Luther squints toward Klaus, and Klaus shrinks further into the couch as if hoping the couch would open up and eat him—he would take anything to get away from that scrutinizing gaze he’s so accustomed to.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Are you sick, Klaus?”

Vanya’s voice is gentle, concerned, and Klaus aches to go toward that care, but Luther interjects before Klaus can explain himself.

“No, he’s just coming off drugs like usual. Diego, go check his room.”

“You fucking do it,” Diego snaps, glaring at Luther. “I don’t answer to you.”

“Diego,” Allison warns, doing her best to keep the peace between the two who are always at war with one another. “Klaus,” she continues, pulling her attention toward her other brother. “Did you take something?”

“No,” Klaus mutters around a cough. “I’m clean.”

“It’s okay if you did,” Allison starts, going a different route. “You can tell us—we just want to help.”

“Oh, wow,” Diego drawls out. “Allison the fucking saint. That’s new.”

“Watch it, Diego.”

Luther’s growl reverberates uncomfortably in Klaus’s head, and he whimpers quietly, pulling the cardigan over his head as his siblings begin to bicker. In a way, their loud voices, all fighting to be the loudest, to be heard, are worse than the ghosts who smother him with screaming and crying. Maybe because he can’t focus his mind to shut his siblings out—because they aren’t dead. They’re alive, and they are so fucking loud.

His head is throbbing. He can’t stop shaking, and he’s exhausted despite only waking a few minutes before. “Ben,” he whispers, coughing harshly into the arm rest of the couch while he moves both hands over his ears to block out the arguing. “Can you make them stop?”

He knows it’s an empty request because Ben can’t—his brother can only speak to him. But, below him, the couch begins to vibrate, and before he can remove the cardigan from his face to look, there’s a bellowing shout from his side.

_“Shut the fuck up! Klaus is sick!”_

The sounds of glass breaking and pictures falling mix in with Ben’s booming voice, and after, an uncomfortable silence covers the room. Slowly, Klaus moves the cardigan to see Ben sitting on the couch beside him and looking at the floor with wide, surprised eyes.

“Sh-shit, Ben,” Klaus mutters, but before he can reach out toward Ben, Five is popping in front of him, manifesting from the kitchen to the living room in the mere blink of an eye.

His other siblings are crowding behind Five, but Five only stares at the empty space where he assumes Ben is sitting before he pushes Klaus’s sweaty bangs back and slides his palm across Klaus’s forehead.

Five’s hand is cool, and Klaus leans into it, his eyes fluttering shut at the uncharacteristically gentle touch.

“Was that Ben?”

“How do we know this isn’t just withdrawal?”

“Five?”

“It’s not withdrawal,” Five says, moving his gaze back to the empty space on the couch where Ben’s seated, watching him. “It’s probably the flu—I don’t think he would have a fever this high with just a cold.”

_“Fucking finally.”_

“How do you feel, Klaus?”

Klaus has to blink a few times to ward off the graying darkness that’s creeping at the edge of his vision. He moves a slow gaze toward Vanya. “Dear sister, I feel like utter shit.” His tone is lackluster, missing its usual easy flare. He turns to cough into the cardigan while his siblings look to Five.

“Luther, carry him back upstairs. He probably won’t make the walk back up. Diego, check the master bathroom for medicine. Vanya and Allison, he’ll need to eat, but only something light unless you want to clean up his vomit. And, Ben,” Five shifts his gaze back to the couch, “stay with him.”

_“Like I have a choice.”_

Klaus has just enough energy to note the lack of sarcastic heat in Ben’s reply before he gives in to the darkness pulling at him with strong, large hands.

*****

_“Klaus? Klaus, are you awake?”_

Klaus feels as if he’s lying in a pool of ice yet he’s facing the sun that’s hovering right over him. He aches horribly, and going back to sleep is ideal, but he cracks his eyes open. “How’d you do it?”

Frowning, Ben cocks his head to the side. _“What?”_

“The poltergeist thing,” Klaus elaborates around a few coughs.

_“I… I don’t know. I was just—I was pissed and worried.”_

“Aww,” Klaus croaks out. “You did all that just for little old me?”

_“Shut up, Klaus.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! I've never written for The Umbrella Academy before, so my characterization is probably everywhere it doesn't need to be-- sorry about that. I just really love the show, and I wanted to give it a shot. 
> 
> Also, I don't really know the full extent of Ben's ability as a ghost, but I have a headcanon that he can go all poltergeist if something happens to Klaus. 
> 
> Any who, I hope you all enjoy! I'm still working on getting back into writing-- I'm rusty af, but I'm trying.


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